�Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first, from Los Angeles, California, weighing in at 130 pounds, Sarah Miles!�

"Fantasy" by Mariah Carey began to play as Sara Miles stepped from behind the curtains. The young blonde beauty wore a baby blue, cami tank, "Sara" written across the chest in pink cursive, and matching, baby blue, mini skirt. She finished the look with baby blue, wrestling boots, her blonde hair falling straight down her back. She smiled brightly and waved to the fans before sprinting down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans. Sara entered the ring and performed a few warm-up stretches, waiting for the match to begin.

The crowd cheered appreciatively for the newcomer, impressed by her charisma and natural beauty. Her gracious arrival and energetic response to the crowd won over a large segment of the throng immediately. She was a refreshing alternative to many FAWN super stars, even some of the good girls. A phenomenally gifted athlete, wholesome looking, yet devastatingly beautiful, she�d just become an instant star.

The raucous crowd settled down as the ring announcer lifted the microphone to his lips once again.

�Her opponent, from Uriah, Alabama, weighing in at 120 pounds, Ivy�Belle�ARMSTRONG!!�

As .38 Special's "Wild Eyed Southern Boys" blasts over the PA system, FAWN�s favorite bad girl, Ivy Belle Armstrong, tore open the curtains at the top of the ramp with her own two hands, and with a wicked smile, sauntered down to the ring with plenty of swivel in her hips. She took time to acknowledge a few select fans along the way, preying upon those particularly lacking immunity to her Southern charms and striking beauty.

Within moments, Ivy had several young men climbing the walls and in need of restraint by security. A particularly rabid young man wearing a Montgomery Biscuits baseball cap and a University of Alabama baseball jersey merits special attention. He howled with glee as Ivy sauntered down the aisle. She turned, and saw an artist�s rendering of herself, wrapped in a Confederate Flag, arms behind her head and a seductive smile on her face. Arched across the top, in dark gray letters were the words �THE SOUTH HAS RISEN AGAIN!� Ivy winked at the devoted fan, sticking her left index finger in her mouth, sucking on it for a second before pulling out. She winked at the young man and approached him, giving him a peck on the cheek that stopped him dead in his tracks. She left the young man paralyzed by rapture and stepped briskly to the ring, giving just enough shake and wiggle to stoke her supporters into a frenzy.

The two combatants approached the center of the ring warily, each sizing up the other. Ivy, a veteran of FAWN who�d established herself as a dangerous opponent on the cusp of greatness, seemed the more confident. Sara, the newcomer, was an accomplished wrestler in her own right, but a newcomer to FAWN. This place was like the jungle, she knew. Rules seemed mere suggestions. The only binding one seemed written by Darwin himself�The fit shall survive. Each barely noticed the referee�s instructions, and, upon the conclusion of his rule reading, launched herself at the other.

Sara got the early advantage, straining, but strong enough to slowly drive the stunning red head backwards. The wily veteran, however, had a counter in mind. She fell backward, maintaining her hold on Sara�s arms, and monkey flipped the FAWN rookie into the corner. Both women were up in a flash, Sara looking a bit surprised; Ivy smiling slyly.

�Didn�t major in street smarts, did you, Sara?� mocked Ivy Belle.

Sara ignored her, and resolutely stepped forward. Ivy did the same, but Sara lashed out with a kick to Ivy�s midsection. Showing quickness that eclipsed most on FAWN�s roster, Sara threw Ivy into the ropes. The next moment found Sara in the air, her legs wrapped about Ivy�s skull. A vicious twist and the smoldering Alabaman was flung to the canvas, courtesy of a hurricanrana.

Ivy scrambled quickly to her feet, only to be met by Sara�s foot, carrying with it all the force that the textbook spinning kick could muster. Ivy tasted canvas, once again, as the crowd roared in appreciation of Sara�s athleticism. The blonde executed a baseball slide, but was a split second too late, as Ivy, no slouch in the quickness department herself, rolled out of the way. The red head gained her feet first, and nearly took Sara�s head off with a wicked clothesline.

The blonde was knocked flat on her back. She quickly rolled onto her side and tried to get up, but the force of Ivy�s blow grasped her. She rolled onto her back, only to have Ivy help her to her feet rudely with two handfuls of golden hair. Ivy gritted her teeth and spun, releasing Sara after two full revolutions. Poor Sara hit the canvas and rolled into the corner, brain momentarily scrambled, hair a mess, and bosom heaving.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Ivy homed in on her wounded prey. Once again, Sara found herself being dragged to her feet. The Californian brought her knee up hard into Ivy�s flawless stomach. The desperation move turned Ivy�s wickedly seductive smile into a pained groan. Reacting on instinct forged by hours of intense training, Sara wrapped her arms around Ivy and hauled her up into a German suplex.

Ivy hit the canvas and felt the wind driven from her and her neck brutally bent, her chin tucked into her own chest. She sensed the referee hitting the canvas and heard the slap of his hand against the canvas.

ONE

She kicked.

TWO

Her lungs were on fire, but she straightened her neck and her back, freeing herself from the pinning predicament, rolling off her shoulders just as the referee�s hand struck the mat.

�Two! Two count!� said the referee, emphatically.

Sara looked at the referee, not to complain, but mainly out of disappointment amid her fading nervousness�though the butterflies were mostly gone. Ivy, on her haunches, snapped a right hand into Sara�s tummy. It didn�t hurt, but it knocked her off balance, surprised. Showing the resilience that made her one of FAWN�s most feared competitors, Ivy was back up in her face. They locked up, Ivy�s balance and momentum too much for Sara. They slammed into the corner. Three lightning fast chops were accompanied by the thunder of Ivy�s hand�s strafing Sara�s thinly covered breasts.

Sara allowed herself a pained grunt, but gritted her teeth and fought back, snapping Ivy�s head back with a right cross. The lanky red head stumbled backward, but never lost sight of her enemy. She intercepted Sara�s arm, turning a threatened clothesline into a painful arm bar. She brought the big blonde down to the canvas and began working on the wing, twisting and pulling to send blade after glorious blade of pain into poor Sara�s shoulder.

�Looks like you didn�t do your homework, blondie,� quipped Ivy Belle.

�Ugh! Well�I�studied enough�to learn�this!�

She could deal with the pain more easily than the taunting. She swung her legs around to the outside, in the process, brutally wrenching her own shoulder. She�d be free if she didn�t black out from the pain first.

The wave of nausea hit, then passed. Strong legs ensnared a surprised Ivy�s head, and dragged her down to the canvas. Ivy twisted free and was on her feet before Sara. The blonde lunged forward from her hands and knees, driving her shoulder into Ivy�s stomach. Hell�s Belle doubled over and Sara wrapped her arms around Ivy�s powerful legs and tackled her. The blonde flipped over the top and had Ivy in her second pinning predicament of the night.

ONE

TWO

Sara held on with everything she had�but Ivy Belle might possess the most powerful legs in FAWN. She couldn�t hold the matchbook in place as Ivy�s legs overwhelmed Sara�s arms and shoulders.

Both women struggled their feet. Sara ran backward and rebounded off the ropes. She struck Ivy with a clothesline, toppling her. A knee drop to the chest brought a pained groan from Ivy, who jackknifed upward, then reclined back to the canvas, bosom heaving, taut midsection covered in sweat.

Sara, herself slicked with sweat, her blonde mane darkened and matted, stepped smartly to the corner post and climbed. She took flight and fell, striking Ivy Belle like a thunderbolt with a senton splash. She hooked Ivy�s leg.

�UGH! OOOHHHhhhh!� groaned Ivy.

ONE

TWO

Shoulder up.

Sara rolled off her prone opponent, clutching her midsection, her head sagging in disbelief. Her full lips parted as she sucked in breath after breath.

Ivy just lay there. Her chest heaved deeply. That had almost finished her. And the energy it took to lift her shoulder nearly left her tank depleted. But only nearly.

Sara got to her feet again. Again she went to the corner, this time stumbling. Again she climbed to the top, this time slowly. The stunning blonde steadied herself atop the corner, and stood.

On the canvas, Ivy Belle was struggling to her feet. She was still gulping down breath after breath. She knew she was in trouble. Where was Miles? Not pressing her advantage? Impossible�she turned woozily�the top rope! Sara leapt. For once, it was easy. Ivy went in the one direction she could go easily�down. Of her own accord, the red head let her knees buckle and she collapsed to the mat a mere second before Sara�s missile dropkick would have finished her.

Sara flew right over Ivy�s head and crashed into the math. Her extended feet hit first, slowing from the canvas�s friction. Unfortunately the rest of her kept going and she cart wheeled out of control into the ropes. Ivy staggered to her feet and saw Sara tangled between the bottom two ropes, left leg outside the ring, right one around the second rope, while her head rested on the canvas, her back and shoulders resting on the bottom. Ivy got a running start and executed a baseball slide kick that sent Ms. Miles tumbling onto the floor in a sweaty, delicious heap.

Ivy leaned on the ropes, regaining her bearings. After a few seconds, when she no longer thought her head was going to explode and her stomach was going to turn itself inside out, she exited the ring. Sara was on her hands and knees.

�Hey�Shugah,� Ivy huffed. �I ever tell you I was good at soccer?�

With that Ivy took two steps and launched a kick into Sarah�s midsection. Her foot hit with a wet slapping sound of flesh against sweaty flesh, followed by a resonant thud. Sara was knocked onto her back.

�GUHHH!� she cried, coming to rest a few feet from her original starting point.

Ivy swooned, but the adrenaline rush of second wind allowed her to press onward. She hauled up the ailing blonde and Irish whipped her into the steel guard rail. The stunning blonde cried out as her back met the unyielding steel. Slowly, she slid down the metal barrier as half the crowd booed furiously while the other half cheered and howled with glee. The volume only intensified as Ivy finally delved into her bag of black tricks with the simple, yet devastatingly elegant kick between the legs. Sara seemed to deflate as the wind was knocked from her and replaced by a searing heat emanating from her crotch. She offered no resistance as Ivy whipped her back toward the ring, her heavy chest leading the way.

Ivy heard the referee counting.

SIX

SEVEN

�I hear you, Baby,� said Ivy, winking at the official who had done a fabulous job of allowing the action to rage out of his control. She rolled Sara back into the ring and went for the cover, hooking the leg.

ONE

TWO

Shoulder up. She was scarcely aware that she�d survived, but Sara was still alive.

�Glad you�re still with me, sweety,� said Ivy as she straddled Sarah and applied a stomach claw. Sara groaned in pain as Ivy bore down with all her weight and all her power. The danger of this hold was the sheer panic it induced in the victim. It was a nearly reflexive response to try to pry away the hands that were inflicting such pain on her. This counter had almost no chance whatsoever of succeeding and Sara knew it. Having studied exhaustively for this match, she knew she had better options. The first one that came to mind was to hammer away at Ivy�s face�but that option held no promise as Ivy�s long, willowy arms kept her face safely out of range.

Second option�a joint�most probably an elbow. Sara watched as Ivy bore down�she seemed to relaxing, then digging in�almost rhythmically. When she relaxed her elbows were bent. With each flex of her arms�with each new wave of agony that tore through Sara�s middle, Ivy straightened her arms, almost locking them out.

Mistake. The next wave of pain arrived and Sara brought both her arms in toward Ivy�s elbows in a double chopping motion. The impact locked Ivy�s elbows out, then pushed further, painfully hyper-extending each elbow. Ivy shrieked, relinquishing the hold.

�OH GAWWWD!� she screamed. �OH YOU BITCH!�

Pain shot through her arms, but she shook them out�flapping her arms like wings. Through her pain, Sara scoffed.

�Y-you look like a big�dumb�turkey, flapping your arms like that,� she said, standing up on wobbly legs.

Sara unleashed a chop that lacked its usual power because of her exertions earlier in the match, but Ivy wasn�t fresh either, and that made the net result the same. Ivy crossed her arms over her comparatively modest chest. Sara unleashed a shot to Ivy�s chops that staggered the willowy hellion, then swung Ivy around, preparing to deliver her finisher�the Halo, a devastating variant of the tornado DDT. At the last possible moment, Ivy�s bony fingers shot up into Sara�s crotch. It delivered just enough pain to throw the Halo execution off. Sara released Ivy�s head and slipped away. Ivy closed and raked her fingers across Sara�s eyes. Sara squealed in pain�but that squeal gave way to a breathy groan as another kick to her sex landed.

�Elevator goin� down� Ivy said, grabbing Sara�s blonde locks in each hand. �Ground floor, coarse canvas, busted faces, and Southern Charm.�

She drove Sara�s beautiful face into the canvas with a face slam. The stunned blonde moaned weakly as Ivy once again lifted her head by the hair; her abused scalp would be killing her for a week. Ivy snaked those long, supple legs around Sara�s head, applying the Southern Charm. She poured her considerable power into the constricting hold, and grabbed Sara�s weakly flailing arms.

�Ohh! You West Coast girls do�uh! Have skills,� Ivy said as Sara�s face was buried in her crotch. Sara�s frantic attempts to breathe slowed, almost as if in response to Ivy Belle�s double-entendre. A compliment? A taunt? Both.

Ivy help onto the hold for minute or so, and, noting the complete absence of resistance, released Sara�s arms. The referee raised Sara�s arm once. It fell limply to the canvas. He raised it again. It fell. A third time brought not a different result as Sara slept on.

He called for the bell and Ivy Belle released her finally subdued victim. She stood, allowing her hand to be raised in victory as �Wild Eyed Southern Boys� got its encore presentation of the evening.

Ivy knelt beside her vanquished foe, brushing her sweaty blonde hair out of her slumbering face.

�Maybe I didn�t go to college, Sara�but I�ve got my Ph.D. in breakin� blondes. You were tough�but not tough enough!�

She stood, raising her hands in victory, and accepted the cheering of her fans.

WINNER: Ivy Belle Armstrong